


veritas lux mea

by sordes



Series: astra inclinant, sed non obligant [15]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Ardyn isn't full of scourge AU, Established Relationship, Gilgamesh doesn't become a skost AU, M/M, Oral Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Tuxedos, clay wine jug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-30
Updated: 2018-05-30
Packaged: 2019-05-16 03:48:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14803799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sordes/pseuds/sordes
Summary: “You sure about this?” Gilgamesh asked for the tenth time since they began getting ready.Ardyn laughed softly as he tilted his head back and kissed the corner of Gilgamesh’s mouth. “You’re cute when you worry, you know.” Ardyn turned around and placed his hands on Gilgamesh’s chest, smoothing out his lapels. “The concern is noted and appreciated, though.”The one where Ardyn and Gilgamesh attend a fancy party at an ancient art museum.





	veritas lux mea

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AccursedSpatula](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AccursedSpatula/gifts).



> 'Veritas lux mea' = 'the truth is my light'
> 
> Borrowing AccursedSpatula's lads for a decidedly more hand-wavey happy ending to their story.

Gilgamesh would have taken practically any excuse to see Ardyn all dressed up in a tuxedo—though preferably one that didn’t simultaneously involve _him_ wearing one, too.

It was Ardyn’s idea to attend the gala. The stuffy affair was commemorating the opening of the Insomnia Museum of Ancient Art’s new wing, the exhibition focused on the early days of the Lucian Empire and its often obscured history as a republic. The invitation touted the opportunity to get an exclusive and up-close look at countless artifacts from this precious, but tenuous, time in the Empire’s history before the general public—artifacts up to now kept out of public viewing, stowed away in climate-controlled warehouses and dark rooms. Gilgamesh knew it was a bad idea from the moment Ardyn flashed the embossed invitation at him, grinning cheekily. Not that anyone there, prestigious art historian or not, would be able to link the two immortals to any of the artifacts there, of course, rather, because there was no telling how seeing the artifacts from their early years would affect Ardyn.

Gilgamesh had more or less made his peace with the past, with the betrayals they endured. It was different for Ardyn, though—of course it was. He knew that the injustices Ardyn suffered two millennia ago still stung almost as if they were fresh, despite them both having come out ahead in the end. Though Gilgamesh tried to dissuade him, Ardyn was insistent on going, just for a laugh and some good champagne, he’d said. Begrudgingly, Gilgamesh ultimately agreed to indulge him (as he more often than not did).

Still, the sight of Ardyn in his tux, the clean lines of the jacket and slim cut of his pants, did wonders to mute Gilgamesh’s anxiety towards the evening. Ardyn was adjusting his cufflinks in front of the bathroom mirror, and Gilgamesh couldn’t help but wrap his arms around him from behind when loose strand of auburn hair slipped from behind his ear.

“You sure about this?” Gilgamesh asked for the tenth time since they began getting ready.

Ardyn laughed softly as he tilted his head back and kissed the corner of Gilgamesh’s mouth. “You’re cute when you worry, you know.” Ardyn turned around and placed his hands on Gilgamesh’s chest, smoothing out his lapels. “The concern is noted and appreciated, though.”

After Ardyn fixed Gilgamesh’s bowtie and gave him a playful slap to the rear— _it seemed Gilgamesh wasn’t the only one who enjoyed seeing his partner in such formal attire_ —they were off in the black Audi Ardyn had arranged for. Gilgamesh never tired of watching the city lights, despite seeing the technology evolve into its current form, and would no doubt continue to watch it advance as the years passed. At heart, perhaps, he was still a man from a simpler time, and such displays of human ingenuity never ceased to amaze. His hand was over Ardyn’s the entire drive over, rubbing his thumb over Ardyn’s knuckles and engraved wedding band around his ring finger, almost like he would do to a spooked horse—something done entirely for his benefit, more so than Ardyn’s.

“I’m half expecting you to ask if there’s a safe word tonight,” Ardyn teased, the glow of a nearby car’s taillights around him, their car one of many caught in the Saturday night traffic.

“There’s no harm in it,” Gilgamesh replied, smiling back. “Accubita?”

Ardyn chuckled. “I raise you ‘triclinium.’”

“Triclinium it is.” Gilgamesh squeezed Ardyn’s hand. He wanted to ask if Ardyn hadn’t changed his mind again, was tempted to ask if he wouldn’t just prefer to have dinner somewhere instead ( _he personally_ never _got enough to eat at these frou-frou affairs_ ), but decided against it. Ardyn was long since grown and perfectly capable of making decisions for himself. If his mind was set on something, Gilgamesh was similarly set to seeing it through at his side. That was how they survived all these years, and how they earned the world record for longest marriage of any (living) couple by a longshot—a record Gilgamesh didn’t realistically see anyone being able to break any time soon, but one he preferred to keep with a healthy lead of about two thousand years, nonetheless.

As if to further assuage any of Gilgamesh’s fears, Ardyn spoke pleasantly of various things during the remainder of their ride to the gala. Perhaps it was nerves underlying it all, but Ardyn went all out, talking of times and places even Gilgamesh’s memory was foggy about. Though Ardyn’s recounting of various historical events— _textbook events_ , as Gilgamesh would regard them—the talk reminded him of times long ago, when their courtship of sorts had only just begun. Of course Gilgamesh was attracted to Ardyn’s looks first, the way his hair was always wild, the dangerous flare of intelligence in his eyes, and the way his lips always looked mere seconds away from spouting something dreadfully witty, but like a seed, Gilgamesh’s love for the man had come to sprout and grow, leaves unfurling into something quite magnificent while the plant’s roots dug deep—so deep they could withstand the wear of some two thousand years.

Never was anyone so blessed as he was, Gilgamesh thought to himself, smiling to Ardyn. Ardyn cocked an eyebrow but didn’t question the sentimentality lurking underneath the surface. If not for the driver, Gilgamesh would have stolen a kiss then and there, but decided against it. There would be plenty time to come for more physical displays of his affection, and away from prying eyes for that matter.

If there was one thing they both had an abundance of, it was time.

\---

Though Gilgamesh strongly maintained people these days had no idea how to really throw a party, he had to admit that the organizers had spared no expense for tonight’s affair.

Sure, the gala was missing the undulating dancers, half-nude (or entirely nude) serving men and women, and if done in _his_ people’s way, the sacrificial goat, but it _did_ have a series of lavishly stocked buffet tables, free-flowing champagne, and a rotating selection of the most delightful hors d’oeuvres, all inspired by the tastes of the early empire. The museum itself was nicely decorated, Gilgamesh noted, albeit somewhat delayed, the high ceilings dressed up with twinkling lights, and there was no shortage of beautiful Insomnians and other foreign dignitaries dressed to the nines in attendance.

After leaving their coats with the coat check, Ardyn was quickly mingling with some of the other guests. He always found himself attracting a small crowd at these types of affairs—people were naturally drawn to his wit and charm, a natural orator and conversationalist through and through. Gilgamesh was the complete opposite, so he busied himself with filling a plate at one of the buffet tables, artfully dodging attempts to engage him in conversation with the age-old “I don’t speak Common” wincing smile. It never ceased to work like a charm.

Ardyn found him a short while later, making a poor attempt to balance his plate and champagne flute near the end of one of the buffet tables, and popped a prosciutto wrapped plum slice from Gilgamesh’s plate into his mouth.

“I see someone found the culina,” he joked. Gilgamesh offered him his flute, but Ardyn nodded ‘no,’ instead plucking one from the tray of a passing server.

“I’m already thinking of where we should stop on the way home for something more filling.”

Ardyn chuckled over the lip of his glass. “Yes, well, I’m sure that can be arranged. Did you take a look at the exhibition?”

Gilgamesh set down his half-finished plate on the edge of the table and offered Ardyn his arm. “And view the treasures of the old world without a beauty at my side? I wouldn’t think of it.”

Arms looped, the two moved against the crowd toward the exhibition area just as the gala’s emcee took to the mic. It was the beginning of a charity auction, or something of the sort, to make use of the attendees’ deep pockets, but advantageous nonetheless, allowing Gilgamesh and Ardyn to peruse the artifacts alone and uninterrupted.

The new wing was dimly lit, each artifact under spotlight for seemingly dramatic effect. Upfront there were a number of urns and amphora with insightful cards, such as “Wine Jug,” “Clay Jug,” and, Gilgamesh’s favorite, “Clay Wine Jug.” Gilgamesh wondered just when the culture at large had shifted from using the great earthenware jugs to bottles, and felt a new sense of disappointment at it all. There had to be someone they could buy their own amphore from, if only for the fun of it.

Though Ardyn laughed softly with Gilgamesh, reminiscing about the times they drained two, even three, amphora of wine in one evening, he gradually steered Gilgamesh to a series of mosaics and carved reliefs displayed on one of the walls.

“Is that…?” Ardyn pointed to an eroded section of one of the reliefs; a nude male warrior, sword drawn, facing off with what appeared to be a giant coeurl. Both sets of eyes fell to the warrior’s groin and Ardyn laughed. “It does you no justice, truly.”

Gilgamesh scratched his beard, laughing. “I have no memory of the nudity.”

“You’re getting old, Gilgamesh,” Ardyn teased as he leaned in to read the accompanying card. “‘Blademaster battling coeurl; Artist Unknown; 5 AE.’” He cast a glance back at Gilgamesh, lips curling into a smile. “‘Blademaster’? Well, _la-di-da_.”

Gilgamesh shrugged. “Wasn’t it two coeurls? We were out with the army, in the untamed lands.”

“No, we were in Lucis and it was a housecat that had contracted rabies,” Ardyn said wryly. “You sprang out of our bed, paring knife from the cheese board in hand. Do you really not remember?”

Gilgamesh knew there was a 50/50 chance Ardyn was lying, but just laughed and shrugged. “We’ll have to leave that one up to the artist’s interpretation of events.”

They meandered from artifact to artifact, Gilgamesh keeping a watchful eye on each and every one of Ardyn’s reactions. Thankfully they ranged from amused to playful rancor—in which Gilgamesh indulged him, mock holding him back when Ardyn threatened to ‘have words’ with the head art historian at the mislabeling various items, including an obvious dildo labeled as a detached sword hilt.

Ardyn’s mood was light, a touch nostalgic, and Gilgamesh couldn’t blame him. Being surrounded by such ancient things, though most of them of little personal note to them, harkened back to days of wandering side by side through elaborate gardens, lounging around the impluvium, and feeding one another figs and olives. Of course, there was hardship in those days, both had the scars to show for it, but it was easy to live in the pleasantly hazy memories the objects recalled.

At least, that was what Gilgamesh thought at first, feeling silly to have worried so over the effect such harmless objects would have on Ardyn.

Distracted, Gilgamesh nearly collided directly into the man himself, who had abruptly stopped in the middle of the showroom floor. Gilgamesh followed Ardyn’s gaze and sighed, his apprehensions, though delayed, now manifesting all at once.

It was a giant marble relief, intricately carved, and Gilgamesh recognized it—he had wondered at it as he watched the artist begin to give it shape all those years ago. It was a history of the line of Lucis, from its inception and the rise of the Empire—the far left end depicting the ‘dark times’ at the end of the crumbling republic, and the far right depicting the rise of the enlightened, _chosen_ king, Ardyn’s younger brother, Somnus. Somnus himself had commissioned the work, when things between him and Ardyn were tenuous, yet the bonds of fraternity still held between them.

Gilgamesh’s eyes scrolled over the relief from left to right, pausing on the major milestones, such as Somnus’ rise to consul, the spread of the scourge, and the descent of the Six to aid the plight of the chosen Lucian people. Though the relief itself was in no way perfect condition—something that old would naturally have the odd ding or scratch to it, especially if it traded hands over the years—it was immediately obvious to Gilgamesh what had stopped Ardyn dead in his tracks and in turn made his own stomach drop.

The savior depicted on the relief, his hand outstretched to the ailing masses, the sole man the Six chose to entreat with, the man standing at Somnus’ side—in each instance his, and only his, face was carved out, completely effaced, purposefully made to never be seen or recognized. The man crude hand tried to erase was, of course, Ardyn.

Ardyn was no fool. He was well aware of Somnus’ moves to remove him from the narrative of Lucis’ rise, to erase his acts of goodwill and the truth behind his ultimate sacrifice. But a lost reference in a history book was worlds apart from seeing his face intentionally and maliciously obliterated from a work of art.

Gilgamesh was a heartbeat away from pulling Ardyn against his chest, from turning him round and holding him to turn his mind from two millennia’s worth of cruelty. But in being a heartbeat away from action, he was in turn a heartbeat too late.

Ardyn turned on his heel and moved with purpose back towards the main hall where the partiers were still gathered. Gilgamesh let him go, giving him a few dozen paces of a head start, then followed, formulating his next words carefully in his head. Ardyn was tricky to deal with when he was out of sorts like this. Though Gilgamesh wanted nothing more than to embrace him, to hold him until his anger and hurt subsided, Ardyn was perfectly capable of rejecting physical consolation should he not be in the mood for sweet words and soft touches.

Gilgamesh thought it best to approach with caution, both to avoid further spoiling their evening and the black wrath of Ardyn’s temper. He moved through the crowd, their attentions still trained on the emcee and his assistant, yammering on about something Gilgamesh couldn’t care less about. Following Ardyn across the room and out the main doors, Gilgamesh caught up with him at the coat check, Ardyn having his ticket in hand, but the attendant absent.

Gilgamesh said nothing at first, just leaned back against the coat check counter, arms crossed in front of his chest. Ardyn rapped his fingers on the counter, irritated, but said nothing and made no attempt to look at Gilgamesh. Finally, Gilgamesh took a breath in and broke the silence. “You alright?”

“I’ll be ‘alright’ when I’m far from here and the entire atrocious exhibit is behind me,” Ardyn replied testily.

Gilgamesh nodded. “I’m sorry you had to see that.”

“‘Had to?’” Ardyn finally looked at him, brows pinched together, reminding Gilgamesh of a hurt and cornered animal. “I wanted to come here, I wanted to see what—what trash they dug up.” He threw his hands up, exasperated. “It’s my own fault I got burned.”

“Hey, that’s not fair,” Gilgamesh soothed. He wanted to put a hand on Ardyn’s shoulder at the very least, but resisted.

“I was a fool for thinking there might have been something that survived unscathed. Something that, I don’t know, something that might have shown a different side to the story. Six, it’s been so long I’m starting to doubt myself. And now,” he leaned over the counter, poking his head around in the coat storage area, “I just want my fucking coat and I want to fucking go home.”

Gilgamesh couldn’t easily rationalize away Ardyn’s thoughts, though his heart sunk at Ardyn’s admission. Was it not enough that he had lived through those times, too? That he had borne witness to Adryn’s good deeds? There were some problems, even after all these years, whose solutions evaded him still. But a coat? Gilgamesh could solve that one.

“What number are you?” Gilgamesh asked as he pulled out his own ticket from his inner breast pocket.

Ardyn turned the ticket over his hands, frazzled. “One thirty two. Why—Gilgamesh, where are you going?”

Gilgamesh shrugged, pushing himself away from the counter, and tried the door handle to the coat check closet that was just nearby. The door opened without resistance, Gilgamesh thinking that it really reflected poorly on museum security for the booth to be left unattended and the door unlocked. If he was lucky, maybe someone would go and steal the giant wretched relief and smash it to bits, he thought darkly as he entered the small room.

“Gilgamesh. Get out of there,” Ardyn hissed from the counter.

“Are you _really_ afraid of getting caught?” Gilgamesh asked as he flipped through the designer jackets and coats, looking for theirs. “We’ve got our tickets. And besides,” he looked to Ardyn and grinned, “they can’t even label a dildo right. Fuck ‘em.”

Even Ardyn in his current state couldn’t help but laugh at that. Shrugging in that _if you can’t beat them, join them_ way, he moved from the counter out of sight and was quickly at Gilgamesh’s side in the coat check. The two stood side-by-side, shoulders touching for a moment, and then Ardyn spoke. “Thank you.”

“I don’t think I did anything worth your thanks, but the words are appreciated nonetheless.”

“You know what you did,” Ardyn pressed, sidling an inch closer to him. “So thank you.”

Gilgamesh looked over and found Ardyn staring. He nodded, a silent affirmation of the understanding between them, of the feelings that neither needed to give voice to for them to be communicated. “I’d like to kiss you now,” he said a beat later, completely unabashed in that way that only he could be, putting the most nauseatingly sweet words to tongue without a hint of hesitation or embarrassment. Perhaps he could do so because he fed off of the way Ardyn’s cheeks never ceased to color at his boldness, even after all these years.

“You don’t need to ask,” Ardyn said slowly, tiling his head back as invitation.

“I didn’t.”

Gilgamesh leaned in and their lips met in a soft kiss, in parts tender and apologetic. It ended too soon, and Gilgamesh knew that while things could still backfire magnificently, there was nothing more in this world he wanted than to feel Ardyn’s lips on his once more, so it was worth pushing his luck. Gilgamesh turned, his hands bracketing Ardyn’s face, and drew him into another kiss, only deeper this time.

Though he could feel a line of rigid resistance in Ardyn’s body at first, it melted away as Ardyn relented and kissed him back. Ardyn held Gilgamesh at his hips and moaned softly as Gilgamesh licked into his mouth, transforming the tender gesture into something far more charged. In all his years Gilgamesh had known plenty who were content to jump from bed to bed, partner to partner, always wanting someone new, someone to explore and discover. But he found he never tired of Ardyn, never grew bored of his sighs or groans, or the taste of him. They fit together perfectly, like two pieces of driftwood weathered by many years at sea, sliding together like they were made to.

Gilgamesh rubbed Ardyn’s cheeks with his thumbs warmly, fingers tangled in stray tresses of his hair. He hummed each time their tongues slid over one another, pleased both at the evening’s turn for the better and how Ardyn hummed into his mouth, falling further into the kiss with each passing second. Both were reduced to panting when they parted, Ardyn looking up at him in a haze, emboldening Gilgamesh and his desire. The attendant, wherever they were, didn’t show signs of returning, and there was no one else in sight or within earshot—the main program still taking place out in the main hall. It would be easy to quickly grab their coats and let their driver know to come get them or even hail a taxi, whatever took them on the quickest path home to their bed. But Gilgamesh knew that unless Ardyn stopped him here and now, there was no way he could wait that long to get his hands on him.

Gilgamesh slipped his hands down to Ardyn’s hips and maneuvered him so his back was to the row of hanging coats.

“Gilgamesh?” Ardyn questioned, the flush on his cheeks deepening as Gilgamesh gently urged him back amongst the coats until his back found the wall. Mostly obscured from any prying eyes amongst the fine wools and satins, Ardyn indulged Gilgamesh in another kiss, this time wet and open-mouthed. “Dare I ask what you’re doing?” Ardyn asked when Gilgamesh pulled back, nipping at his lower lip. There was a flare of warning in his voice; Ardyn was amused by Gilgamesh’s actions, but not completely won over. Not _yet_ , anyway.

“You know damn well what I’m doing,” Gilgamesh answered, summoning his most rakish grin. “I seek to balm the wounds of offenses suffered at the hands of obtuse historians.”

Ardyn hissed as Gilgamesh dragged a hand down to his groin and gave him a healthy squeeze. Though direct sign of interest had yet to manifest in his hand, from the way Ardyn surged against him, pressing himself into Gilgamesh’s touch, Gilgamesh found nothing but encouragement. His breath hot on Ardyn’s skin, Gilgamesh left a trail of wet kisses from Ardyn’s lips to his jaw and up to his ear where he nibbled on the lobe gently. “I would have you here and now, hot and hard in my hand,” Gilgamesh rasped into Ardyn’s ear.

“Just your hand?” Ardyn teased, turning his head to entreat Gilgamesh into another kiss. Gilgamesh obliged, his tongue growing bolder as Ardyn’s cock came to life in hand.

Gilgamesh chuckled as the kiss ended. “If you ask nicely...” His quick fingers moved to undo Ardyn’s belt and top button and ease down the fly. “I suppose I could be persuaded otherwise.” Cheeky fingers slipped into Ardyn’s trousers and took his half-hard cock into hand, earning him a half-hushed gasp in surprise.

Though Gilgamesh himself was on alert as to any movement or approaching sounds, lest they be discovered _in flagrante delicto_ , his hand and heart were solely focused on the cues, large and small, that Ardyn’s body gave him. Gilgamesh palmed Ardyn’s cock wholesale through the thin fabric of his briefs until he felt a wet patch form, and noted how Ardyn’s fingers dug into his hips where they held him for support. Deviously, Gilgamesh muffled a loan groan from Ardyn’s mouth with his own when he slipped a hand in past the waistband of Ardyn’s briefs and took him into hand, his fingers curling around the shaft as his thumb wicked away the beads of precome from the slit, foreskin pulled back slightly.

Ardyn’s cock came to life in his hand, hot and hard, curling inward slightly, as Gilgamesh tugged on it in practiced upward strokes. By now he knew every inch of it by heart, and used every trick he knew to press advantage and coax Ardyn to full hardness.

“We’ll be caught,” Ardyn warned, though his eyes flashed with excitement, not fear, as Gilgamesh got to his knees before him.

“And what, get a lifetime ban from the historical society? I think there are worse fates to suffer.”

Gilgamesh’s tongue flared between his lips as he pushed down Ardyn’s pants and briefs enough to give him access, and Ardyn assisted by holding up his dress shirt and tuxedo jacket. There was something so debauched about looking up at Ardyn now, that dangerous, taunting look on his face, the stark contrast between the polished, formal look of his tuxedo and the redness of his lips to the trail of auburn hair leading from his bellybutton down to the bed around his cock. The tip was glistening with precome, the shine extending down his shaft, the low lighting of their confines seeming to spotlight it now before Gilgamesh’s eyes.

Without further ado, arms snaked around Ardyn’s legs, Gilgamesh leaned in, pressing his face close to the side of Ardyn’s cock. Beneath the bright fragrance of the soap from their shower was only Ardyn’s natural smell, a mixture of musk and salt and clean sweat. Gilgamesh parted his lips and ran the flat of his tongue up the underside of the shaft, dipping back down just shy of the tip, still partly covered by delicate foreskin. Ardyn was practically vibrating with need in Gilgamesh’s hold, his sudden turn to eagerness igniting pool of desire deep in Gilgamesh’s stomach.

After untangling an arm from Ardyn’s thigh, Gilgamesh coaxed the foreskin down away from the tip of Ardyn’s cock with a steady hand. Ardyn sighed, and Gilgamesh watched as he tipped his head back, the crown hitting the wall with a dull _thud_. His tongue and hand switched positions, and Gilgamesh cradled Ardyn’s balls and the base of his cock with the ‘V’ of his hand between his thumb and fingers while he lapped at the underside of the tip. Gilgamesh couldn’t help but grin as he laved his tongue in circles around the tip, making Ardyn bury his fingers in Gilgamesh’s thick hair.

A dull soreness settled in Gilgamesh’s knees but he paid it no mind. Ardyn’s breathy moans urged him on and he happily slid the cock into his mouth, covering his teeth with his lips. Gilgamesh palmed and fondled Ardyn’s balls in his hand as he bobbed his head up and down, cheeks warm and the faintest prickles of sweat dotting at his hairline. Though Ardyn was quiet, holding back the brunt of his moans, his cock was responsive on Gilgamesh’s tongue, and connected like that, Gilgamesh could feel his body shiver and twitch at his ministrations.

Although Gilgamesh in general preferred to take his time with things—Ardyn often teased him not for things being slow, but rather _lengthy_ —now he was singularly focused on bringing Ardyn over the edge fast. Hollowing his cheeks, Gilgamesh sucked, his hand working the base of Ardyn’s cock in time with the bobbing of his head up and down the shaft. Ardyn’s grip tightened in Gilgamesh’s now mess of hair, and after casting a quick glance up, Gilgamesh noted now Ardyn’s head twisted against the wall, trying his damnedest not to make too loud a sound.

Ardyn came as suddenly as a summer storm, his finish hot on the back of Gilgamesh’s throat. His thigh shook where Gilgamesh still had hold on him, and he leaned forward, panting, fighting to stay upright and relatively quiet as his orgasm tore through him. Gilgamesh held himself down, nose buried in the thatch of auburn hair around the base of Ardyn’s cock, and swallowed repeatedly, greedily drinking down every last drop of come Ardyn had to give. When the pulsing and twitches in Ardyn’s thigh ceased, Gilgamesh slowly drew himself back, his tongue the last part of him to break contact with Ardyn’s cock, reveling in how debauched he knew he looked. Ardyn watched him through half-lidded eyes, his hair having fallen about his face, but his lips were quirked up at the sides. _Just wait till I get my hands on you_ , he seemed to be whispering.

Gilgamesh was slow to rise, nearly always was (unlike Ardyn, the firebrand), but he could feel that he was half-hard. He knew full well the coat check was no place to really get what he was craving, but he was hesitant to put an end to the encounter, so he returned to licking the red, shining tip, cleaning up any remnants of come. Gilgamesh would have continued to lave his tongue over the cock before him until Ardyn called his name to make him stop, the stimulation too much on his sensitive skin.

After Ardyn gently extracted his fingers from Gilgamesh’s hair, he helped Gilgamesh to his feet and they shared a kiss. Ardyn was never shy about tasting himself on Gilgamesh’s lips and tongue, and singlehandedly turned the chaste affair into a lurid one, licking into Gilgamesh’s mouth.

“I think we better get you home.” Ardyn laughed breathily, having slotted a thigh against Gilgamesh’s groin and felt his arousal.

“Unless you saw an accubita back there,” Gilgamesh joked, pressing a kiss to the corner of Ardyn’s mouth.

Gilgamesh poked his head out from the row of coats to blessedly find the hall still empty, and stood watch as Ardyn tucked himself back in. Thanks to Gilgamesh’s attentive handling, not a single drop of mess was made on Ardyn’s jet black ( _dry-clean only_ ) pants. Though both were still flustered, and Gilgamesh’s issue still pressing, they returned to their original purpose and quickly located their coats, hung side by side.

“I’d think a taxi would be fastest,” Ardyn said as they exited the museum into the cool night, his breath coming out in a white puff.

Gilgamesh nodded and raised his hand to hail a ride when his stomach let out a low growl— _who ever ate their fill at one of these stuffy things, anyway?_

Laughing, Ardyn slipped his arm under Gilgamesh’s and held himself close. “We’ll get take out on the way.”

“Much obliged.” Gilgamesh leaned in and kissed the top of Ardyn’s head, then paused, thoughtful. “I know it’s not enough that _I_ know the truth—”

“It _is_ ,” Ardyn returned, not missing a beat. “Deep down, it really is.”

Gilgamesh kissed his head again, lingering in their closeness, breathing in the scent of the shampoo they shared against the chilly night air. He didn’t give a rat’s ass about the ‘truth’ as recorded in history books and written on museum cards. As long as he could hold Ardyn in his arms, could make him laugh, that was all he needed. Besides, Gilgamesh had always been there, had seen firsthand Ardyn’s goodness, had _lived_ it. He never needed any convincing as to the truth of things.


End file.
